Cassandra
by Precambrian Studios
Summary: Daria talks with Cassandra. What could possibly happen?


The door to 'Hicklebees Books and Book-Accessories" opened up, causing the bell that the door was tied to to jingle. Daria grimaced: she despised that bell. It often signaled the inevitable approach of a staff member, asking her what she was there to buy. "You don't happen to sell privacy, do you?" It was weak, but certainly effective. A good book was what Daria needed, anything to drown out Quinn's continuous whining and prattling over clothing and makeup. Daria browsed the psychological thriller section, scanning over Harris, Cussler, Crichton, King. And nothing.  
_  
Slow year for girls getting stalked by nutballs, I guess._ After skimming through a few more shelves, Daria sighed, shrugged her shoulders, and walked back outside. _Might as well get an ice cre-oh no._

Apparently, the village idiots had decided to take a stroll on the same day, at the same time, on the same street.

"Mmmmheh, hey, Butt-Head. You think, like, Metallica breaks their drums whenever they beat them too hard?"

"Uhuhuhuhuh. You said beat. Uhuhuhuh."

"Mmmmheh, oh yeah, emmmmhmmmheh. Hey, is that, like Diarrhea?" Beavis cupped his eyes with his hands and formed binoculars. "Maybe she knows something about beating."  
_  
I'd like to know how to beat you senseless, but for now, I think I'd rather browse the romance section._ Without hesitation, she ducked back into the book-shop.

DINGLE DING!

This time, somebody came over: a pudgy blond teenager "Hello, Miss, are you looking for-"

Daria held up her hand and hissed, "Not now, Stewart."

"Aw, but Daria," he whined. "I have to talk to the customers so that it looks like I'm doing a good job and...hey, is that Beavis and Butt-Head?" Stewart ran outside and chased after them. "Wait up guys!"  
_  
Like a moth to a zapper, and doomed to disappointment._ Daria looked around the store, considering what to look at. _Might as well get something new. Besides, who knows?_ _The knuckle-heads could come back at any given moment. _

Deciding that non-fiction would be a decent alternative, Daria turned 'round the corner of a bookcase in the self-help books and literally walked right into someone, and they both stumbled back a little.

"Damn!" Daria cursed.

"Ooh, I'm sorry!"

Daria shook her head to regain focus, and looked at the person she had bumped into. Even with clouded vision, she could tell who it was, there was no mistaking the towering figure and amorphous blue dress.

Daria boredly waved her hand. "Hey Cassandra."

"I'm so sorry, Daria," she said. To Daria's horror, she took her hand and seemed to examine her arm. "Are you hurt?"

Daria awkwardly withdrew her limb. "Ah, no, I'm fine."

Cassandra smiled. "That's good. I'm so sorry, I should have seen where I was going."

"Ouch, though you look a little worse for wear."

Cassandra frowned. "What do you mean?"

Daria shifted her eyes to Cassandra's shoulder. "I guess I must've torn your dress a bit, too. You have a bruise."

Cassandra looked at her left shoulder, gave a small laugh, and tried to cover it. "This poor dress. It's falling apart, I've worn it for so long. I made it myself, a few years ago, with my mother."

"Your mom, or step-mom?"

Now Cassandra gave a frown, and though it was brief, such a thing was rare. "My real mother. My new mother doesn't like me very much. She tends to avoid me, but that's fine. She has no respect for art."

Daria nodded. "I'm guessing that's why you're here?" She pointed to a book tucked under Cassandra's arm.

Cassandra smiled and shook her head. "Oh, no. I don't buy books that tell me how to think. This is Forrest Gump. It's my favorite. I love Forrest and Jenny, they're my absolute favorite characters."

"I prefer Poe, myself."

Frowning gloomily, Cassandra said in a dark tone, "'Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow, from my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore." For a moment, she just stared reflectively at the floor. Then she looked up and said, "I memorized the poem last year. Did I get it right?"

"Spot on. Couldn't have done it better."

Cassandra gave a delighted grin. "Thanks, but you're just saying that."

"No, really." _Sometimes, you're even a bigger monotone than me._

"Thank you."

Daria gave another nod, and then asked with some concern, "Are you sure you don't want that shoulder looked at? It looks infected...how'd you get that?"

Suddenly, Cassandra's eyes darted around the room, and she said flatly, "I fell down the stairs and hit a tile." Resembling a frightened rabbit somewhat, she gave a brief, "Bye," and took off.  
_  
Well, that was new._ Daria shrugged and started for the sci-fi and fantasy section. But for the rest of the day, she kept on thinking of the tear in that dress, as well as what appeared to be several dark stains.

XXXX

"Excellent work, Cassandra," VanDrissen said in the darkened class. As part of an animation project, everybody was required to create brief cartoon. Daria herself had drawn the execution of Louis XVI, and Cassandra's had just been shown: a flower blooming, dying, and then its rebirth. "How did it feel to see your work come to life like that?"

She pressed her hands against her chest. "So powerful, so enormous, so brief." Daria noticed that just like at the bookstore, she was staring reflectively at the floor again. "Just like my father."

Everybody in the class went dead silent. But quickly, VanDrissen turned his attention back to the projector screen and said, "Hmm, well, let's see what Beavis and Butt-Head have come up with."

Daria did not watch the film of poorly-drawn spears, planes, and dogs rip apart two self-depictions of the duo. Instead, her eyes were fixated on Cassandra, who was still staring at the floor, her eyes as dark as pits.


End file.
